


Can't Stand Losing You

by kierenjumper



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Drug Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, emetophobia tw, homophobic slur tw, mention of rape, vomit tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierenjumper/pseuds/kierenjumper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Ian finds Mickey after he gets kicked out of the army.</p>
<p>Ian does not think that he has ever seen Mickey’s body without a bruise or a cut before. Ian tries his best to know every mark on Mickey's body.<br/>Now Ian could see every single one blossoming on his skin. He wants to kiss them all until they disappear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Guess You'd Call it Cowardice, but I'm not Prepared to go on like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Can't Stand Losing You," by the Police.

He could hear his sister's voice ringing in his ears. _I am a fucking pussy_ , he thinks to himself. Mickey heads to the kitchen and finds a bottle of whiskey.

He goes to his room, closes the shades, and turns off all the lights. The bottle is gone within ten minutes, yet he stills feels like complete shit.

Mickey doesn't want to leave his bed, but the pain overtakes him. He forces himself to go grab as much vodka as he can hold, and brings it back to his room.

All he can think of is red hair and cold eyes. Ones that say “I don’t fucking love you.” The drinks burn his throat, but it makes everything dull, so he continues getting completely shitfaced. He wishes that he did not have such a high tolerance so that he could just fucking pass out already.

He has to piss, so he gets up to stumble to the bathroom. He glances to the pill cabinet, and grabs some sleeping pills. He takes around six, and heads back into his dark shithole of a room. He falls into bed and tries to think about all the times that he and Ian fought. They always ended up back together. His last thought before falling asleep was what Ian looked like with blood spurting out of his mouth after he beat the shit out of him.

* * *

 

He wakes up the next morning on the floor. Mandy and Svetlana kicking him awake.

“Wake the fuck up, assface,” Mandy grunts. Once they see that he’s waking up, Mandy stops. Svetlana gives one more kick before walking away.

“Jesus Mick, what did you take?”

Mickey does not respond to his sister. He’s ashamed of what he has done. What he did not do. Mandy just scoffs.

“Look you pushed your fucking beard wife to decide to give away your kid. So congrats on fucking up every aspect of your life.”

Mickey can’t even bring himself to stand up. He feels relieved that he won’t have to raise a rape baby, but he also feels guilty. This poor kid is going to be fucking stuck with the fact that his parents did not want them their entire life. He knows first hand how awful it is to know that the self hatred is justified.

He overhears his sister and Svetlana talking in the hall.

“You tell him?” Svetlana asks.

“Yeah, but I mean I don’t get why the fuck you are still sticking around?”

“Well I have to stay, because otherwise Terry will fucking kill me. But I can’t have my child growing up with alcoholic grandfather and father.”

He hears them both walk away. He gets up, and tries to wash away the hangover. He throws on some clothes, and goes to find his dealer. He gets as much as he can afford, then heads to the abandoned building where he had beat the shit out of Ian. He can’t handle the flood of memories, so he just takes a mix of pills and washes him down with vodka. It’s like his brain is trying to torture him, only replaying the worst memories.

Before long he falls over, and he is crying. He can’t stop thinking about how fucking worthless he is. How that whore felt. What it felt like to feel Ian’s nose crunch. Terry’s screams before a pistol whip. Mandy telling him that he’s a pussy. His mom overdosing. Everything is hitting him, but he just fucking knocks himself out not long after.

 

 


	2. I can't see the point in another day, When nobody listens to a word I say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey reaches a low. Title taken from "Can't Stand Losing You," by the Police.

Mickey wakes up in confusion. Then it all hits him again. He sighs, and tries to get up. Everything aches, and the winter sun is blinding him. He feels the frost bite that nipped at his ears and fingers.

He doesn't care, in fact he believes he deserves it. He takes his time walking home. He even makes a detour to gaze up at the Gallagher household. He starts to walk away, when he hears someone walk out.

"Ayyye, Mickey?" he hears Lip yell after him. He continues walking, he doesn't even pause for a second. "What have you gone fucking deaf?"

"Look I don't got any drugs on me right now, aight?" Mickey responds.

"You look like shit Mick. What, your sham of a marriage isn't working out for you?"

"Hey shut the fuck up man," Mickey says. He's not in the mood for this shit right now.

"Look I'm not trying to start shit, it's just...have you seen Ian?"

Mickey finally stops walking.

"No," he says more quietly than he intended,"Why the fuck should I have?"

"I don’t know,  maybe it’s because you guys are fucking?" Lip points out.

Mickey just starts walking away from him again. Lip keeps following.

"So you really have no idea where he went," Lip gives one last try.

"Army," is all Mickey replies.

"But he's not eighteen."

“Yeah, because no one around here knows had to fake some ID.”

Lip sighs. “True, but like that’s just not like Ian...”

Mickey ignores him. He just wants to get home.

“Why are you being such a dick about this?” Lip asks, fed up with his brother’s goddamn boy toy.

Mickey can’t respond. Lip finally stops following him. Mickey is losing it. He’s knows it’s bad that Ian did not even tell his family where the fuck he was going.

He hesitates before entering the so called “Milkovich House of Horrors.” It was accurately named so, and for Mickey, it just kept living up to its name. Everything bad seemed to happen within the shitty fence of his home.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Mandy asks when he walks in. Mickey just shakes his head.

“What still not talking? Damn it Mickey, I know you’re pissed that Ian left or whatever, but it was kind of your fault right?”

Mickey just walks away, like he always does. It is his fault. Everything that happened. All his fault. He crashes onto his bed. Mandy follows him into his room, despite the sign indicating to stay the fuck out.

“Look Mick, you can’t just keep running away from this. You were his... well whatever you were his...boyfriend, I think. He didn't really go into details in his drunken rant. Other than that he loved you slash was fucking you... You can’t just do this though... I mean you lost your kid, if it’s even yours... Please just don’t do this to yourself.” Mandy lightly punches her brother, then walks out.

Mickey can feel his blood run cold. He eventually falls asleep.

He only wakes up to piss. He goes to the bathroom. He can’t bring himself to look at his own reflection. Mickey opens the medicine cabinet to grab more sleeping pills. It feels like he could sleep for the next century. He sees the plain razor blades that his sister would use sometimes when Terry would get bad. It does not even feel real when he reaches out to grab one of them, and holds it up to his wrist.

He knows that if he cuts vertically, he can die. He can’t kill himself while his little sister is in the house. That’s too fucked up. So instead he lets his frustration out on his arm horizontally, sporadically placing cuts until he only sees red. He is breathing heavily at this point. He downs a handful of Melatonin to calm himself down, and heads back to his room. He wakes up a day and a half later with blood crusted onto his hoody.

* * *

 

It gets to the point where he just repeats the same days over and over. He wakes up and showers. Then he gets someone to beat the shit out of him by being his usual self, or just uses the blades. He downs some vodka, and every once and a while eats whatever’s in the fridge. Then he swallows a fuckload of pills.

After a few weeks, Mandy tries to deal with him.

“Mick, we need to talk,” Mandy confronts. “Ian’s, uh...Ian’s back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo thanks for reading my trash. I sort of wrote this for myself, but it's groovy that you guys like this. Thank you so much.


	3. I guess this is our last goodbye, and you don't care so I won't cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian returns. Title taken from "Can't Stand Losing You," by the Police.

The words hit harder than any pistol whipping he'd received.

"He got into some deep shit with the army, so I said he could hide out with us for a while, since Terry's locked up again."

Mickey hadn't even noticed his father's absence.

"You've got to snap out of this Mick. No more fucking booze and drugs. I mean, unless you want a joint or something. That might do you some good." She opens the blinds and takes some bottles before leaving her brother's room.

Mickey just stares at the ceiling. He thought he wasn't going to see him again for four years. He couldn't quite comprehend that he would be in his house.

He doesn't know how he feels about it yet. On one hand, he's just relieved for him to be back. The thing is that he is afraid. He's so fucking scared that Ian will still look at him the way he did before he left.

He figured that he should go clean himself up. And grab more pills. Fuck what Mandy said, they were helping him. This time, though he downed them with water.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Ian walked into the Milkovich house for what felt like forever. Everything is so different now. He lost control of himself. It was something that kept happening more and more often. His dreams of success, gone before they could even begin. Once he got kicked out, he somehow knew that he should come back here.

Mandy would know what to do. She would understand. He hated to admit it, but he missed the shit out of Mickey, despite the fact that he had told himself that he was done with him.

"So I'm not really sure where you are gonna sleep, Kenyatta won't be too thrilled with you sleeping in my room." Her words snap Ian out of his thoughts.

"Yeah well anything here has got to be better than the shitty cots I've been used to."

Mandy looks apprehensive.

"What?" Ian asks.

"Uh, just so you're prepared, Mickey's kind of going through some shit right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she pauses to think for a moment, "I mean he's kind of been fucked up since he and Svetlana got engaged. You know, he was drinking a lot and shit. Uh but now though, now... Well, I don't know the last time I've seen him sober...or heard him speak-"

"So pretty much, he hasn't changed?" Ian says, almost mockingly.

"Ian, I don't think you fucking understand what I'm saying here," her voice turning cold, "He's taking a bunch of pills. He only leaves the house to buy more, and/or to get into a fight. He's maybe conscious for four hours a day, and that's a good day."

"What, are you saying this is my fault? It's not my fault he got raped and took everything out on me,"

"That's not what I'm trying to say. Also, maybe if you hadn't run off then you'd know that if he's taking anything out on you, it's just a goddamn fraction of what he's doing to himself."

"You keep saying that like it's my fucking fault," his eyes are watering, he is so upset and angry.

"It's not, but you sure as fuck didn't help."

Mickey walks past them like they aren't even there. Ian finally gets what Mandy was saying. He looks he's lost a lot of weight. His eyes are glazed over, and a dark color encircles them. He has what looks like blood crusted through the sleeve of his hoody.

Moving like he is in a trance, Mickey grabs a bottle of vodka, and tries to leave the kitchen. Ian goes to stop him. 

"Maybe don't try yet," Mandy puts a hand on Ian's shoulder. He looks up, and all the anger has melted from his eyes in exchange for worry.

Mickey leaves the house. He doesn't slam the door anymore.

Ian starts to put on his coat and shoes again. He throws on a scarf and gloves and starts to go after him.

"Don't," Mandy says.

  



	4. I guess you'd call it suicide, but I'm too full to swallow my pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Can't Stand Losing You," by the Police.

As Mickey's walking, he notices that something is off. Everything is spinning, and he can feel the blood soaking through his sleeves.

He takes another swig of vodka, and shakes the feeling off. He just focuses on not toppling over like some crazy drunk. He doesn't want to end up being Frank. The bottle is running low by the time he gets in. Luckily, he thought to grab some pills as he left.

He stumbles into a sitting position in the corner of the cold building. He takes the rest of his pills, then empties the bottle. No more distractions.

He didn't even bother to glance at Ian when he saw him. Mickey feels guilty that he didn't do so. He was just so goddamn scared of what he might see.

He was afraid to see if he still cared. Mickey no longer felt that he deserved him. He was too fucked up for him. He could never be what Ian needed because that would mean that his dad would murder the both of them.

Seeing what he had seen in Ian's eyes before he left would destroy him. As much as he tried to drown out and neglect everything he felt about him, it didn't work. It never works, and it never will.

He would spend days reminiscing on their time together. Realizing that he was happiest when he was with Ian stung.

Something drops in Mickey's stomach. He can tell his sleeves are completely blood soaked and everything is starting to get cloudy. He knows that the death rates for those who slit their wrists is pretty low, but his odds aren't looking so good right now. He had looked up the statistics after finding out about Monica.

 _Shit_ he thought. He couldn't be doing this to Ian right now. He wasn't even trying to kill himself, even though on most days he wanted to do so. He had just gone a bit overboard today, there was no way it was anything fatal. He couldn't leave him like this just after he had gotten back.

He didn't want to. Mickey had always tried to find a way to fix things, so he was so fucked up when he realized he couldn't.

Everything is beginning to fade, and the guilt hits him full force. He starts crying, which hasn't happened in a while since usually is too numb.

He swears he can hear someone enter the building. It doesn't make sense though. Mickey thought he was the only one who came here. He can't help but close his eyes.

"Mickey...Mick... Hey, you in here?" Mickey hears Ian calling out for him. He wishes he could respond.

"Holy shit," Ian says once he sees Mickey slumped in the corner. His training kicks in, and he goes to check his vitals. His heart rate is slower than it should be. There is a lot of blood, but not as much as there was with Monica.

He debates on calling 911. If he does, he knows Mickey will kill him for putting him in the hospital. Ian also doesn't know how the Milkovich's would pay for his medical bills.

If he doesn't call, then he doesn't know if Mickey will have brain damage or lose too much blood. He can't risk that, so he decides to make the call.

While he's waiting for the ambulance, he tries to put pressure on Mickey's forearms. He looks even worse up close. The dark circles look like bruises, and he weighs less than he should.

He knew Mickey was a budding alcoholic before he left, but now things were so different. He hears sirens, but he can't tell if they are coming to this building or not.

Ian knows that Mickey isn't going to die, but he still has a nagging sensation. It feels too much like what happened with Monica. He hears footsteps and paramedics calling out.

From there, it's all kind of this whirlwind of rubber gloves and yelling and stretchers and questions. They ask questions about Mickey as they tend to him, then they ask if he is related to Mickey. He says no, so they inform him that he cannot ride in the ambulance with him.

They do give him the address of the hospital, and they tell him that his injuries are not fatal, but he isn't exactly in good shape. Ian is relieved.

He calls Mandy as he heads back to her house.

"Maybe in some sort of twisted way, this is a good thing," she says. "I mean now he'll be forced to snap out of this."

"Yeah," although Ian knew that this wasn't something he could snap out of. He knows first hand that once someone loses control of their own mind, there isn't a perfect fix.

"Where are you? I'm coming to pick you up," she says.

"You know that block of abandoned buildings over by the L?"

"Yup, be there soon, okay?" she says, hanging up. 

Ian waits for what seems like forever. Everytime he blinks he sees red. 

He sees the headlights of the car. Ian quickly hops into the passenger seat, and Mandy starts driving. He can tell she's been crying.

"I knew he was bad, I just didn't know he was that bad," she said while speeding to the hospital.

Ian just sits in silence. He can't begin to comprehend what he just saw. At worst, he thought Mickey would just revert back to his old self. It freaks him out that he sees himself in Mickey.

"I can't fucking believe that he would try to off himself," she says when they've almost reached their destination.

"I don't think that he tried to kill himself Mandy. I think he was just trying to distract himself from everything."

"How the fuck should you know? You haven't been around."

"Look I know Mickey, I know what he's going through," he says.

"And you think I don't?"

They just stare at the road ahead of them. They get lost a few times on the way to the hospital. Ian's phone GPS isn't exactly reliable. As they pull into the parking lot they are both brought into apprehension. Mandy parks the car near the ER, and they get out. She sighs and looks over at Ian, who is fidgeting.

“You ready to go in?” she asks.

“No,” Ian says. They walk in anyways.

 


	5. And all this guilt will be on your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is hospitalized. Title taken from "Can't Stand Losing You," by the Police.

"Hello, we're looking for Mickey Milkovich. He was recently admitted, he has self inflicted wounds and-" a nurse cuts off Mandy.

"Lindsey here will show you to him," she says, indicating to young lady next to her.

They silently follow her, and then a doctor greets them outside his room.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Lopez."

"Hi I'm Mandy, his sister."

"Ian, I'm his uh," he glances over at Mandy for some help, but she doesn't give him any, "his boyfriend."

"Alright, well as you both know, he was unconscious when we found him due to abuse of prescription drugs and alcohol. We are doing everything we can to get them out of his system. He also had a large number of self inflicted scars, and two fresh vertical cuts that we had to stitch up. He's stable now, but we would like to keep him for the next forty eight hours for observation, since he obviously has a history of self harm," he says finally looking up from his clipboard.

"We would also recommend a stay in the psych ward, but since he is over eighteen, he may choose whether or not he would like to stay."

"We can barely afford for him to stay twenty four hours," Mandy interrupts.

"Yes, well we'll have someone talk finances a little bit later, but for now we are just trying to focus on treating him."

"Well if you can get him on Prozac or something, that'd be great. He just needs a little boost, you know?"

"Well, uh, we can try to get a psychiatrist in here to prescribe that," he says.

"That'd be good. Is there any chance we could see him?"

"Since he's only staying for forty eight hours, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tomorrow. We have three blocks of visiting hours. It's 10-11 in the morning, 2-3 in the afternoon, and 6-7 at night. We may turn you away if we believe it will interfere with the patient's recovery. Now I've got to go now, but you can ask the nurses if you have any more questions."

They both say thank you, then they head to the waiting lounge.

"Boyfriend?" Mandy asks once they sit down.

"I don't know," Ian says and putting his head on his hands. "I figured it be better than sort of ex-best-friend-fuck-buddy-slash-maybe-more-than-fuck-buddy. Yo and also then I thought maybe I would get to see him sooner."

"It's bullshit we can't see him for another fucking twelve hours. We're family, jesus," she says.

"I know this sounds dumb and stupid and sappy and shit, but I just kind of want to hold his hand, you know. Just sit with him in there."

"Nawh it's cool, I wanna do the same, except in like a non incesty way."

Ian gives a half smile at that.

"Do you think they'll let us wait here overnight?" Mandy asks.

"Well it's called the waiting room," Ian points out. He gets a light punch from Mandy.

"Shit wait, I think Kenyatta will probably want me back home."

"So?" Ian asks.

"So I'm gonna go home. If you want to stay here, fine. It'll probably be better than staying at my house, but if you wanna come back at any point, it's unlocked."

"You're just gonna leave your brother alone in a hospital because you think it'll make your boyfriend happy?"

"Oh no, leaving my grown ass brother in a safe hospital."

"Alright, point taken. I might just stay over night, I don't know."

"Okay try to get some sleep, loser," they hug.

"Bye," Ian says before settling down on the couch. The waiting room lights are dimmed because it's night time. He puts his headphones in, and closes his eyes.

He can't think of anything other than Mickey. Somehow every song that pops up triggers a memory between them. He thinks about how light he was when he held him. He still had Mickey’s blood smeared over his hands and clothes. He can’t help but feel guilty for this.

He could have called home. He could have called him. Ian knew he was not handling things well, so he wasn’t sure why he thought it would be a good idea to leave him on his own. He knew that what happened wasn’t one hundred percent his fault, but that didn’t help the knot building in his throat and the tightness in his chest.

He gives up on trying to sleep after around an hour. He gets up, and goes to the coffee machine.

He walks down the hall of Mickey's room. Ian can't help but look in the sliver of a window on the door of his room.

Mickey is asleep. His arms are wrapped in bandages, and he has an IV hooked into them.

Ian idles for a moment, then decides to go before he gets any suspicious looks. He hates that he can feel tears stinging in his eyes. He just wants it to be ten o'fucking clock already. He can't stand waiting like this.

 


	6. Stop and wait a sec. When you look at me like that my darling, what did you expect?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys.

Ian checks the clock constantly. He's made six laps around the hospital playing out how things are going to pan out. He returns to the waiting room at nine with a new cup of coffee. Mandy arrives around a half hour later.

Ian gets his visitor forms early so that they can go in right at ten.

"Let's see," Mandy says when he's all finished with them. They are trying to kill the last ten minutes before they can visit.

"Name: Ian Clayton Gallagher. Age: 18, oh wow someone is making great use of their fake IDs. Relationship-"

"Shut up, there's a guy with a clip board."

"Dude what the fuck?"

"Don't talk about me having a fake ID around men with clipboards."

They sit around for a little while longer, then the minute it turns ten o'clock, they go up to the receptionist's desk.

"We're here for Mickey Milkovich," Ian says.

"Have you filled out your forms?"

"Yup," Mandy says handing the forms over to the receptionist.

"Room 306, and oh you'll need these name tags."

"Thanks," Ian says. They walk at a brisk pace towards his room.

A nurse greets them at the door.

"He just woke up, you can go right on in."

They walk in and Mandy immediately goes in for a hug at an awkward angle.

"Fucking assclown, I told you to get help not do this," she said, her voice wavering a bit. She grabs a chair and sits on his right side, and Ian follows suit, pulling another chair over to his left side. Mandy is already holding his hand. Mickey looks like he's having a sensory overload.

"Hey Mick," Ian says, and he grabs his hand, even though he's not sure if Mickey wants him to or not.

"This is so fucking gay," Mickey says.

"Mickey my dick has been in your ass, and your mouth, I think that you're a little bit beyond that," Ian says with a smirk.

Mandy is laughing, and Mickey even gives a little half laugh, as much as one could after putting themselves in a hospital. Mickey can't help himself from staring at Ian. Looking down at himself makes him feel vulnerable, so he avoids it.

"Kind of forgot what your voice sounded like," Mandy says.

"Yeah," Mickey's eyes are still focused on Ian.

"What am I interrupting something?" Mandy asks.

"Look do you think I could talk to him alone for like ten minutes?"

"Fine, it's not like I'm your fucking sister or anything," she says as she leaves the room.

There is a short silence. Ian just stares at their hands. He can't think of the words to say.

Not making eye contact Mickey says, "I'm sorry."

"What?" Ian says.

"Well I guess for starters, I'm sorry I tried to kill your dad that one time, sort of. I'm sorry that I told you that you were nothing more than a warm mouth to me. I'm sorry I beat the shit out of you and I'm sorry that you had to see me and Svetlana… I'm sorry that my dad beat the shit out of you, and I'm sorry that I had to get married in order to fucking not get us killed. I'm sorry that I fucking couldn't stop you from leaving..."

"You didn't apologize for what I wanted you to."

"What do you mean? That's the most I've fucking talked since…"

"You didn't saying sorry for fucking scaring the shit out of everyone who cares about you by doing, by doing this," Ian says in a thick voice.

"Fine then, I'm fucking sorry," Mickey says, sounding smaller than he usually does.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

Ian finally just leans in and grabs the back of Mickey’s neck. He kisses him as if he’s afraid that he’ll pull away at any second. Ian slowly moves his fingers through Mickey's hair, then pulls away for air.

He turns his back on Mickey, feelings of confliction running through his head. On one hand, he does want to just forgive Mickey and just continue everything where they left off. It would be so easy, but he doesn't know if that's the right choice.

He wants to hold Mickey accountable for what he has done to him. It's easy to think when he can't see him, out of sight, out of mind. He can't just brush off the apologies he just got. They are everything that he would have wanted before he left, but he's not sure if the words have that same impact now.

He turns around and he catches Mickeys eyes on him before they dart away to pretend like he wasn't just watching him.

Ian breathes in to say something, but he hears a knock at the door, so he goes and lets Mandy in.

When she gets back in the room, Mickey seems to have shut down again. He stopped talking, stopped making eye contact, he only looks at his hand that is intertwined with Ian's.

"Hey bro?" Mandy asks.

He doesn't respond. It's like he's not even there anymore.

"Why isn't he responding?" Mandy asks, her voice dropping.

"I don't know," he says while squeezing Mickey's hand.

"What did you say something to him?"

"Mandy stop talking like he's not in the fucking room."

"He's not." Mandy is starting to get annoyed with how irritable Ian has been since he got back.

"I am," Mickey says, but they can barely hear it.

"Sorry Mick, it's just when you get like this you know? It just, it sucks," Mandy says.

A doctor walks in.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Eden. I'll be running your psych eval. Sorry I'm a little early, we just are trying to keep on schedule."

"I thought you weren't coming till eleven," Mickey mumbles.

"Well, uh, you guys can wrap this up. I'll just, erm, wait in the corner I guess.

Mandy stands up and hugs her brother at an awkward angle. "See you later,"

Ian leans in and gives Mickey a quick peck and a "later," then they let the psychiatrist be alone with Mickey.

"Ugh, I don't think I'll be able to come back until we bring him home," Mandy says.

"Alright, well I guess I'll just stay here then."

"No Ian, you're going home. You look like hell."

"So? I'm just gonna have to come back here in like three hours anyways."

"Fine, you're almost a grown ass man. Just don't do anything stupid alright? See you later."

Ian settles himself back down on the couch. Exhaustion sets in. He finally is able to begin to fall asleep. He thinks solely of Mickey. His hands, his eyes, his scars, his lips, everything about him just swims in a haze through his head.

 

 


	7. I probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys.

Ian hears the alarm going off on his phone and groans.

"What the fuck?" he says before remembering where he is. He turns off the alarm, then looks around. He has just gotten some weird ass looks from the people around him. A mother in the corner glares at him while tightly grasping her son's hand. It's only ten minutes until two.

He has time to get real non-vending machine coffee from the cafeteria before heading over to Mickey's room. He's not sure what he's going to do once he gets into the room. He doesn't know how Mickey is going to be. Mickey has never been the easiest person to read, but since he got back it was nearly impossible.

"I'm here for-"

"Yes we know, that Milkovich kid, you haven't left since he got here."

"...I…uhh"

"Here's your pass, now go," he says, annoyed with Ian's loitering.

"Thanks."

He walks towards Mickey's room. Ian has always hated hospitals. He hated them when Monica had been in them. He hated to think about how Mickey put himself here. It's so fucking cold. Ian has found that they blast the heat in the morning, then just shut it off for the rest of the day.

"You can come in," a nurse says when he gets to his room.

"Hey" Ian says, sitting down next to him. Mickey sort of gives a nod. Ian can feel something falling within himself.

"Look, I, uh, if you just want to sit, that's fine, I guess." Ian waits a little, then slowly brings his hand up to lace with Mickey's. "Sorry that Mandy isn't here." He still gets nothing. "I don't even know if you want me here."

Mickey sniffs. He uses the palm of his free hand to push on his eyes.

Ian hates to say what he is thinking but he cannot help it. "Please don't tell me that this is my fault," he says more to himself than Mickey.

"It's not, alright. I was fucked before you came into my life, and I was fucked after you left it."

Ian doesn't know how to respond, but the only way he gets Mickey talking is by saying what is on his mind.

"Then what are we now?" Ian asks.

"Well according to you, you are my boyfriend," he says.

"That's hospital paperwork, not anything that means nothing."

"Well what else would you be to me?"

"I don't know, fuck buddy, maybe."

Mickey gives a short, bitter laugh. "Fuck buddies don't kiss and accuse the other of being in love with them. That's not what we had."

"Yeah, but what are we now?"

"Are you really going to make me say this right now, after I had a shrink in here tell me that I'm a fucking mess?"

"What did he say?"

"That I for sure have depression, and now I have to take Prozac."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fucking fault I'm insane. They also thought that I might have borderline personality disorder, but they can't tell unless I stay in the fucking psych ward or regularly see a psychiatrist."

Mickey has been trying to hold back tears the entire time that Ian has been in the room. He accidentally lets out a quick sob before burying his head in his hands. He is still trying not to cry in front of Ian.

"Hey, hey, everything's going to be alright okay?" he says running his hand through his hair.

Mickey doesn't respond. He just sort of starts shaking. There are goosebumps littering his body.

"Hey are you cold or..." Mickey shakes his head no. "Here, move over." He does and Ian lies down next to him. He lets Mickey use his arm as a pillow.

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey says, sort of nuzzling into Ian's arm.

Ian smirks at Mickey, although he doesn't see it.

"Make me."

Mickey just groans and closes his eyes. They lay there for a little bit.

"I can't control my fucking mind anymore," Mickey says shying away from Ian.

"I get like that too sometimes, but everything's going to be okay. We're going to go home tomorrow night, and everything will be fine."

"You keep saying that, but you don't even know if it's true."

Ian doesn't respond, he just pulls him closer. His arm is asleep, but he does nothing about it. He never has gotten to be like this with Mickey before.

Out of context, it is everything that Ian wanted. In context, it is unsettling. Mickey rarely lets Ian in, yet since he has gotten back, he is showing vulnerability.

It's not necessarily a bad thing. It scares him, though. Terry has brainwashed him his entire life into becoming this perfect prototype for being a Milkovich.

He has never been allowed to feel anything other than anger. He was taught that feeling was wrong. Now he felt too much, yet not enough.

Mickey sits up more, and grabs the cup of water from bedside table. Ian takes this opportunity to move his arm.

Ian still can't help but stare at Mickey's mummy wrapped arms. He doesn't want to think about what's under those bandages. He doesn't want to think about scar tissue or rusted blades. Mickey catches him staring, and fidgets with them.

"Pretty hot, right?" Mickey says, trying to downplay things.

Ian doesn't think it's funny.

"What, what do you want me to say? That it hurts, that I hate them?" Mickey says starting to shut himself off again.

"They scare me," Ian says.

Mickey was not expecting that. He was expecting repulsion or pity. He had seen Ian scared before, and he hated seeing it again.

"Five minutes," they hear someone saying down the hall.

"Fuck," Ian says. He hugs Mickey tightly. He breathes him in.

"I'll see you in three hours," Ian says, not letting him go just quite yet.

"Yeah."

Ian finally pulls away and kisses Mickey. It's slow, and it makes him forget that he's leaving. He pulls away and walks out the door. He doesn't say goodbye because he is never going to fucking leave again.

 

 


	8. Not shy of a spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys.

 

The next visits consists mainly of Ian and Mickey making out. It was something that they had really only done once or twice before. They figured it'd be the most sexual thing that they could do without Ian getting kicked out if they got walked in on.

Ian is waiting. It's seems that it's all he's been doing. He always had to wait for Mickey, for the first kiss, for everything. He didn't mind most of the time. Until he did.

The caffeine that he has been dumping into his body is starting to take a toll on him. He's jittery, anxious and nauseated as fuck. He can't fucking think. He is only counting down the hours until they can go back home.

That's all he wants. He wants to sleep in Mickey's bed again. He wants to wake up next to him. He's over thinking it all.

He gets a call from Mandy.

"Yo, what's up?"

"I'm on my way over to fill out the paperwork and shit. Oh and Iggy is coming with, too."

"Aight, well text me when you're close."

"Okay."

Ian pauses a moment.

"Where does Svetlana sleep?"

"What?"

"I asked where-"

"I know. She sleeps in Terry's old room, when she's not sleeping at her girlfriend's place."

"Oh," is all Ian can say.

"Yo I gotta go, bye Ian, see you soon."

She hangs up. His hands are shaking. He goes out for a smoke break, and tries to focus on anything other than how there is only thirty nine minutes until he leaves.

He doesn't fucking want to wait anymore. The past forty eight hours have felt like months. He hates waiting this much. His mind floods with its usual stream of ideas, but since Mickey's almost suicide, he has focused on him alone.

Usually he is thinking of new ideas, things he can do now that he's lost his fucking life goals. He used to have everything set out. He never was sure if Mickey was going to be in his future. Hell, he wasn't even sure that Lip or Mandy or even Fiona were going to be anything to him.

Now he knows. Mickey is the solidarity in his life. It doesn't bother Ian how he has come to this conclusion in about two days.

Maybe he and Mickey would run away. Maybe they should have done so long ago. He mentally kicks himself for not trying harder.

The cold is starting to get to him. He smothers his cigarette, then heads inside. He doesn't exactly escape the cold.

The hospital is draining him. All he can think of when he sees Mickey's arms is the all too familiar ones belonging to his mother.

He tried finding her after he ran away from the army. He couldn't though. He missed Mandy more than he missed Monica. He wanted to see her again. He wanted his best friend back.

Looking back on it, he realizes that Mandy wasn't the only reason why he chose against blood. He missed Mickey like hell.

An affectionate "yo fucker," draws him out of his introspection. Mandy had finally made an appearance. He gets up to hug her.

"I'm going to go check in, you know since I'm family or whatever," she says leaving Ian alone for a moment. He is antsy.

He just wants to see him. He wants to remember that Mickey can walk, and function, and be the same goddamn person he was before he left.

Mandy returns. "They say that we'll have to wait until they release him, in around fifteen minutes."

Ian gives a weak smile in response.

"I'm fucking starving, you want to hit up the vending machines?" Mandy asks.

"Got nothing better to do." They get some candy bars, and Ian gets a Snicker's bar for Mickey. By the time they return to their designated area, there are five minutes left till his release.

The last few minutes are brutal. Everything seems to have slowed down to a brutal halt. Iggy joins them a few minutes later.

Ian doesn't know him all that well. He seems pretty okay though. Ian can tell that he is worried about his brother.

Finally someone comes out with Mickey. He is wearing the blood stained clothes that he came to the ER in. Mandy immediately attack hugs her brother.

"Hey man," Iggy says, and Mickey just nods in response.

When they are done, the woman starts talking to them

"Okay so Mickey Milkovich, so we still recommend a stay in our Psych. facilities. I know that money is a problem for you, but I mean money is a problem for everyone around here."

Mickey won't make eye contact.

"Now we have him on a prescription for Prozac currently, but when it runs out he must come see one of my fellow doctors here. I see you all have the discharge papers completed, good, good. Ah yes," she says, remember the bag of razor blades that is clipped off the side of her clipboard.

"Now we recommend you get rid of these, and lock away anything that he could use to hurt himself with." She hands the bag to Mandy, then she turns to Mickey.

"This isn't because we don't trust you, but we don't trust your depression. One last note, we found some illegal substances on you that we had to confiscate and destroy. You also had a high blood alcohol content when you got here. We recommend that you go to some AA meetings Mr. Milkovich. We don't recommend drinking on your meds."

"Okay," Mandy says.

"Alright I think that's everything. Have a good night you guys," the doctor says with a weary smile.

Mickey sort of just rolls his eyes. They walk out in silence.

"I call shotgun," Iggy says. Mandy glares at him.

"What'd I do?" he asks.

They get in the car.

"Can you turn that shit down? I'm fucking tired," Mickey says. His usual aggressive tone is faded.

"Jesus," Mandy says obliging to her brother's request.

Mickey closes his eyes, and lets his head fall. Iggy is toying with the bag of razor blades. Ian is just stealing looks at Mickey. Mandy is just trying to focus on driving.

Eventually Mickey's head ends up slumping onto Ian's shoulder. Ian half smiles down at the boy on his shoulder.

He looks a lot younger when he's asleep. Ian likes him this way. He's itching for another smoke, but he wouldn't dare disturb Mickey.

When they finally arrive back, Mickey wakes up. He shakes the sleep out of his head, then realizes that he was asleep on Ian in front of his siblings. Iggy says his goodbyes as they get out of the car.

It’s just Ian, Mandy, and Mickey. They walk in and find Svetlana.

“He get help?” Svetlana asks Mandy.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I keep baby then,” Svetlana says. “Impossible to find someone that wants to pay for rape baby of thug and hooker.”

“Why don’t you just lie?” Mandy asks.

“Huh,” Svetlana says, and the wheels begin to turn in her head. “But I already go to all people who will pay and they turned me away.”

“Not my fucking problem,” Mandy says, uncomfortable talking with her. The group herds its way away from Svetlana. Mickey heads to his room. Mandy nods her head at Ian to go follow him.

Ian feels like he is intruding. He heads to the bathroom instead to brush his teeth. He pulls out some clothes that don't have Mickey's blood on them. He puts his small duffel bag that carries all he has over his shoulder. Once he is done, he opens the door to Mickey's room.

It is dark. Ian can hardly tell where Mickey is. He is lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He has changed out of his blood soaked clothes.

"Hey," Ian says. He doesn't a response, per usual.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want," Ian offers.

"No, it's fine," Mickey says. He moves over to the other side of the bed.

"Okay." Ian lies down next to him.

Ian doesn't want to invade his personal space, but their arms and legs end up touching.

"Goodnight," Ian says rolling over to look at him.

Ian tries to fall asleep, but he can't. He tosses and turns, but nothing he does seems to be somniferous.

He gives an exasperated sigh, then turns to Mickey again. "Fuck it," he thinks to himself. Mickey is asleep, so it's not like he will mind.

Ian drapes an arm around Mickey and puts his head right next to his shoulder. He can finally relax now.

He thinks back to the first time he slept in this bed. He pulled a similar thing. When he thought Mickey was asleep, he held onto him. Mickey wasn't actually asleep, but he pretended he was.

Ian can tell that he is asleep this time. Exhausted has become the predominant adjective for Mickey lately. He hopes that he will never wake up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks per usual for reading my shit writing.


	9. A Knife Twists at the Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys.

Upon first waking up, Mickey only focuses on the limbs wrapped around him. It doesn't set in yet that he didn't want to wake up in the first place.

He found that it is easier to wake up when he is not sleeping in an empty bed. His arms hurt like a fucking bitch. _I guess that's the point_ , he thinks to himself.

He sighs. Ian isn't awake yet, and there is no way that he is going to try to untangle himself.

He doesn't know how things seemed to have pulled a full one eighty on him.

A few days ago, he rarely woke up in his bed,An alley or an abandoned building were the usual spots. He almost never woke up without a migraine. The first thing he thought about was the fact that he didn't want to be alive.

He feels Ian stirring. He knows that he should feel embarrassed or annoyed because of their current situation. He is too tired to fucking care.

Ian holds on tighter for a second then goes limp. He sighs and opens his eyes. Rolling onto his back, he rubs at his eyes.

He looks over at Mickey.

"How you doing?" he asks, regarding his arms more than his face.

"Fuck off," Mickey says. Ian gets up. Mickey feels bad. He wasn't serious. Reluctance seeps into his veins.

"Wait."

"Relax," Ian says, "I'm just going to the bathroom."

"Oh." Mickey can feel his cheeks flooding with a hotness. He lies there feeling like a rock. He doesn't know if he can bring himself to get out of bed again.

He hates that he always pushes Ian away. He's been the only person that Mickey can turn to since they started hooking up.

Ian returns with a glass of water and the pills that Mickey needs to take. Mickey avoids eye contact and swallows them.

"Thanks," he mutters. Ian just crawls back into bed with him.

"I'm gonna try to look for a job or some shit today," Ian says, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah?" is all he replies.

"Figured I can't work at the Kash and Grab ever again."

"Yeah."

"What have you been doing since I since I last saw you?"

"Still dealing and hustling and shit."

Just then, Mickey's stomach lurches. It is his only motivation for getting out of bed. He stumbles to the bathroom and manages to make it to the toilet bowl before he throws up. He's hasn't eaten much, so it burns.

He notices Ian's hands on his back. He stomach churns once more, and he dry heaves. Ian stands up and gets a paper cup of water for Mickey.

"Fuck," he sputters, his words bouncing off of the toilet's interior.

"Shit, Mick, what have you been on?"

"I don't know," his voice coming out hoarse. "I don't remember, some pills and shit I don't know. I just told my dealer to get me enough to fuck me up."

Ian contemplates a moment. Mickey has just thrown up his Prozac for the day. If he gives him another dose, he is afraid that Mickey will just throw it up again.

Mickey pulls his shit together, and flushes the toilet. The look of worry Ian gives is enough to push Mickey to brush his teeth and take a shower.

He and Ian get ready in silence together. Tension still exists between them, even after the events of the past few days.

Mickey wants to talk to Ian. He wants to ask him why he hasn't contacted his family, or why he isn't going back to school. Talking just seems like it would draw too much energy out of him.

All he wants to do is go back to bed, but he knows that he can't. He goes out into the kitchen and encounters Svetlana.

"Here is money for this week," she says.

"The fuck?"

"What?"

"This is all you made?"

"Yes," she says, avoiding eye contact with the Mickey.

"Fucking shit," is all he says. He wants to go break her pimp's kneecaps. He doesn't. He just heads back into the bedroom and gives into his exhaustion. He crashes down on his bed, and covers his eyes with his forearm.

Not too long after, Ian comes in. Mickey isn’t used to being around other people so much.

“Hey, I’m just about to go, catch you later okay?”

Mickey just grunts in response.

“You gonna be okay?” Ian asks with caution.

He nods. Ian leaves. Mickey’s head is pounding, and he is thinking too fucking much.

When he wakes up, the clock reads 3:02.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. He pushes himself to get out of bed. An immediate rush of cold falls over his body. He checks the thermostat, but it still say that it is a normal 68. His body aches. Mickey checks around the house, looking for some coke, but for once he can’t find any. He finds meth, nitrous, and about every other drug known to man, but not any goddamn blow.

He does not usually like to beat the shit out of people when he is not under the influence. He grabs his coat, a gun, and a crow bar. He hits up one of the street dealers on his way to Svetlana’s work. He finds himself snorting it in an alleyway.

It’s kicked in once he arrives. He yells for the pimp to have a word with him. He is surprised when she walks out.

“Why the hell are you stiffing my wife?” he asks in a harsh tone.

“She gets paid for what she does,” she replies, unphased by Mickey.

Mickey does not like that.

“Alright, hey everyone, get the fuck out here,” he yells, “Everyone, come on bitches. We’re going on a fucking strike.”

“A strike?” she asks giving a short laugh.

“Yeah.” Mickey’s eyebrows are raised in defiance.

“Alright, well I have another fresh shipment coming in, so you have fun with your little strike,” she says before turning around and heading to great the girls who are exiting the back of a truck.

“The fuck?” Svetlana asks Mickey, a trail of russian sex workers trailing behind them.

His high is starting to fade.

“We’ll find you somewhere else to work,” he says, not wanting to talk to Svetlana, let alone anyone.

“Where? Where the hell you find me and prostitutes job, huh?”

He just ignores her.

“Ugh this again,” she says. She stops following him, and so do all the other hookers. Mickey hears them arguing in russian behind him, yet does nothing but continue on. His only focus is getting back home into bed.

Mandy and Kenyatta are in the kitchen when he gets home.

“Where the fuck were you,” Mandy asks casually.

“Out,” he says before disappearing into his room. He tries to shut everything out. It does not help that he threw up his antidepressants this morning. He’s tired, but his body won’t let him fall asleep. He is trapped in the threshold of sleep.

His mind wanders, and he wonders where Ian is. He should be back by now. Panic starts to rise in his body. He tries to calm himself down but he can’t. He tosses and turns. He can’t find any distraction.

The clock says it’s a little after seven. Mickey is in a restless infinity. He wonders if Ian will be coming back, or if he will just leave again. Mickey doesn’t place blame on Ian for leaving. His reasons were justified. It did not make it hurt any less. Mickey already had abandonment issues, but Ian’s disappearance did not help his cause.  

He feels nauseated once again, and practically somnambulates to the bathroom. He falls to his knees in front of the toilet and heaves. He does not know how long he sits with his head leaning on the filthy toilet.

Everything aches. He brushes his teeth. He hears someone entering the house. He hopes it is Ian. His hopes are confirmed. Ian seems artificially happy.

“Hey!” he says pulling Mickey in for a kiss. “Guess who’s the new bartender at some gay bar with a name that would make you cringe?”

Mickey looks shaken. “But you're not 21, you’re not even 18.”

“You think they care?” he asks.

Mickey doesn’t reply. He just wants to lie down.

“You could look a little bit more happy for me.”

“Whatever,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes. The action makes the room spin, and he feels himself swaying.

“Hey whoa,” Ian says, steadying him. “Have you eaten anything today?” he asks, searching Mickey’s eyes as though they hold the answer to his question.

“I-I don't fucking know.”

Ian lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, I’ll make you some pasta. You need to sit down,” he says pulling out a chair for him. Ian goes about making food for Mickey.

“Everyone there is so nice,” Ian says in an attempt to make conversation that he knows will inevitably fail.  

“You seen Mandy today?” Ian sighs.

Once they have finished eating Mickey goes to his bedroom. Ian follows. Mickey hopes that maybe this time he will be able to fall asleep.

“You going to bed?” Ian asks. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

He huffs. “Okay fine,” he says begrudgingly joining him. Ian wraps his limbs around Mickey, burying his face in his dark brown hair. Mickey slowly drifts off, while Ian is alert and acutely aware of Mickey.

Mickey wakes up a few hours later alone.


	10. I should Fall Short of the Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all don't think that this is shitty.

Things seem to be coming to a lull. After around a month, Mickey’s meds finally begin to start working. That also means that he has to go to the free clinic. Of course that is around the last thing he wants to do. Ian does not push him to go, but he does bring it up on occasion.

Ian has been busy working at the club. Mickey thinks about how he did not notice his own depression. Ian seems so vivacious compared to Mickey. Ian seems happy all the time. He sees the joy in everything. He and Ian are also finally fucking again. It took Mickey a while, but Ian seems to want it so bad.

Mickey spends a lot of his free time with Ian at the club, fighting off anyone who abuses Ian. Ian has yet to visit home, but he insists that he calls home everyday.

The solution to Mickey’s whore problem comes out of nowhere. One day he is sitting in the Alibi, then Kev mentions the empty space above the bar, and it just clicks. Mickey is dealing less often now because of the money he is getting from the Rub N’ Tug.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon when Mickey runs out of the limited prescription that he got under the counter from the hospital.

He is forced to go to the free clinic that afternoon. He does not tell anyone about it.

“I’m going out for a bit,” is all he says. No one acknowledges his farewell.

He’s worried that the other people on the L notice his anxious aura. He does not want to go to any goddamn shrink. He’s fine. Pills are all he needs.

* * *

 

“Mister Milkovich?” he hears a woman in scrubs call out into the musty waiting room. He gets up and silently follows her.

“So I see you had a stay in the hospital about a month ago, please tell me about it.”

“I was found unconscious and bleeding.”

“Okay,” she says exasperation slipping in at his obvious stubborn attitude, “Why?”

“I was drunk and high of my ass.”

“Why were you bleeding? The people at the hospital were vague with your records, almost like they were trying to hide something.”

“I cut myself, all right? I could barely pay for my stay, so they just gave me some Prozac and told me to come here when it ran out. If you could please just fucking give me the pills, that would be great.”

“Well you know I can’t just give you drugs, Mr. Milkovich. You have only been seen by a psychiatrist once.”

“Okay well can I see someone who can?”

“You are right now. I just need to do some evaluation first, have a seat.”

“Well your charts say that you have depression, so I don’t need to evaluate that, I mean it’s pretty obvious, and depression is pretty common. There was also a note in here that reads ‘borderline personality disorder,’ but there is a question mark by it.”

“The fuck is that?”

“According to the DSM-V it’s ‘a pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects and marked impulsivity, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts’”

Mickey just shrugs, “The fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“Well we have limited time, so I’m just going to see if you have it first, okay? And no more avoidant bullshit. I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me, and if you’re not, then you aren’t going to get any treatment, aka drugs.

“Whatever.”

“Have you ever felt abandoned?”

“Who hasn’t?” She gives him a look. “Yeah I have.”

“What you done to avoid being abandoned?”

“Nothing. I just let it happen.”

She crosses something out.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Alright, who would you say you have the closest relationship with?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Has your relationship ever been on again off again?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you describe your overall relationship with your boyfriend as ‘stable?’”

“...No, I guess not.”

She takes note of that.

“Would you describe your relationship as ‘intense?’’

“That sounds fucking gay.”

“You are gay. Answer my question."

"Okay fine, yeah."

"Do you always view him in the same way? Like do you always think of him as this great person, or do you think he doesn't fully care about you?"

"I don't know. It depends. I know he cares about me, but I just keep going to bed and waking up alone."

"Would you say you have a strong sense of who you are, Mikhailo."

"Mickey."

"Okay, Mickey, who are you?"

"Thats a dumb ass question."

She raises her eyebrows.

"Okay, I know who I am."

"Are you a good person?"

Mickey resists the urge to ask to question her again.

"No, I'm not. I've never been, and I never will be."

"Alright, moving on. Do you engage in impulsive or reckless sex, driving, violence, drug use, those sort of things."

"Yeah, but who doesn't?"

"Which of those do you engage in?"

"I guess mainly violence, drug use, and driving the most."

She is starting to look uneasy. BPD is hard to diagnose, and Mickey is difficult in general.

"So I know that you came  to the hospital with an armful of self-inflicted wounds.  Do you deny that what you did was a suicide attempt?"

"I don't know anymore. I thought it wasn't, but I don't know. In hindsight, it was a dumb fucking thing to do. "

"Well, did you want to die, Mickey?"

He rubs his thumb on his lower lip. "Yeah," he says looking down.

* * *

 

Mickey needs a smoke. The words that the lady at the free clinic said ring in his ears.  The last thing that he needs right now is this diagnosis.

Mickey always knew that he was fucked up. Having someone else tell him that he is clinically fucked is different.  It's more solid.

He can't do another hospital stay. The original hold was enough.  

The little orange pill bottles weigh him down like boulders in his pockets. He pulls them out instead of the pack of smokes that he wants.

She told him he needed antipsychotics along with antidepressants. What he heard was he was psychotic and depressed.

He finally got out the pack of cigarettes. He brings a shaking cigarette to his teeth.  Side effects may include tremors. This isn't a side effect. This is pure Mickey.

Mickey smoking in an alley. Mickey scared of himself. Mickey shaking. Mickey dreading Ian asking about his day.

* * *

 

An empty house is what Mickey comes home to. He exhales. He doesn't know if it's a good thing for him to be alone right now.

He finds it difficult to resist the urge. He wants to drink everything away. He wants to cut everything away. He wants to drown in whiskey and blood.

He shakes his head, trying to get the thoughts out. He decides to just go to bed. He sits in the silent, unrelenting darkness.

The quiet helps him think, which turns out to be a terrible thing. Mickey can't help but worry that Ian will leave him. He fears that Ian will find someone better.

It would not be difficult. Mickey thought of himself as the lowest of the low. Hell, Mickey had never called Ian his boyfriend before. They had been together for around three years.

He wasn't about to talk to that doctor that was recommended to him.  She told him that the only truly affective way to treat BPD is to get therapy. He will never go to therapy.

He settles for what he knows best. Drugs had always been the way to fix things in his life. The way to dull out everything was to get high.

Now he is taking drugs to stay "normal." He hated how she implied that he wasn't normal because of his disorders.

He hears the door to the house open. He hears footsteps approaching the bathroom. They are Ian's. Mickey can almost hear the blood rushing through his own veins. He felt shaky again, but he had to hide it.

His heart drops. The door opens, and Ian comes in.

"Hey," he says. Mickey can tell that he is high right away. It's wearing off, but Mickey can still tell that there are remnants of it there.

Mickey nods at him.

"What did you do today?"

Mickey swallows.

"Nothing, I went to the free clinic."

"How did that go?" he asks, sitting down on his side of the bed and removing his shirt.

"Pretty shit."

"What do you mean?" Ian asks with caution.

"I, um, I got diagnosed with depression... and also borderline personality disorder."

"Shit," is all Ian says.


	11. Frightened by the Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different look at 4x08. Title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys.

Ian is standing outside 4404 South Wallace Street. It’s cold, so he goes inside.

Ian is worried. His ever responsible sister is wearing a fucking ankle monitor.

He does not let it show. He tells Fiona all about the army and all of his exciting new ideas. He can feel everything just flowing out, and it feels good just to sit and talk with his sister. He was kind of pissed that she did not try to find him when he ran, but he let that go for now. She obviously had her own shit to deal with. She did not have time for her little brother, but that was typical.

She convinces him to stay for dinner. When Ian tells her about Mickey, she is disapproving at first. Then when he tells him about his hospital stay, she invites him over for dinner as well.

Ian notices that she is a little stir crazy. They sit and catch up for hours. Ian calls Mickey and tells him to get his ass over to his house once it approaches dinner time.

When the Gallaghers all get home, Ian is reminded how much he missed his family. He had a nice break, but now it is time for him to be home.

The Gallaghers interrogate him about his hiatus. A knock on their back door interrupts them. Fiona opens it to find an uncomfortable looking Mickey Milkovich. Everyone just stares at him for a second that stretches forever in Mickey’s eyes.

Ian goes over and drags him into the house with a “Hey.”

Mickey looks like a deer in headlights. There are too many goddamn Gallaghers.

"Hey," Mickey says back to Ian.

"Guys, you know Mickey," he half ass introduces. They all acknowledge him in their own way.

Lip gives a "what the fuck" face, Debbie gives a small wave, Carl gives a nod.

"Come on," Ian says pulling Mickey upstairs.

Downstairs, everyone seems a bit confused.

"Why is Mickey Milkovich here?" Debbie finally asks.

"They're boning," Lip says.

"Wait, how do you know?" Fiona asks.

"He told me when it first started."

"And when was that?" Fiona asks.

"When he was fifteen-ish."

"What the hell?" Fiona says, offended that her brother didn't tell her that he was with a Milkovich for so long

"Oh well, he seems happy," Debbie points out.

"Yeah," Fiona says. He seemed happy. He seemed unnaturally happy. She looked to the stairs, trying to convince herself that he was just happy about his relationship. That it is not something more sinister.

* * *

 

They end up staying the night at the Gallaghers after the marginally awkward dinner that followed a nice blow job. The Gallaghers low key bombarded Mickey with questions Mickey didn't want to answer. He deflected them the best he could without angering Ian.

They disappear up to Ian’s room, but are not given more than five minutes of alone time before they are interrupted. Mickey huffs and gives Ian a look.

Carl turns off the light and puts Liam in bed.

“‘Night,” Ian says to them both. Ian’s eyes adjust.“You are not seriously going to sleep in fucking jeans, right?” Ian whispers.

“If you want my pants off so bad do it yourself.”

Ian complies and starts undoing Mickey’s pants. He slips them off and his hands start roaming.

“If you guys are gonna rub your dicks together, can you at least not do it while I’m trying to sleep in the same room as you guys?” Carl says, obviously annoyed.

“Mother fucker,” Mickey groans, and goes to lay down on the ground.

“Sorry,” Ian says, handing Mickey a pillow, and a blanket.

“Whatever.”

“Goodnight,” Ian says making one last effort.

“‘Night, Ian.”

Ian smiles to himself. The way Mickey says his name is distracting. He is very much awake, mind blazing. He finds himself fantasizing and scheming and brainstorming. He finds it difficult to fall asleep when who he loves most is just out of his reach.

* * *

 

Mickey wakes up to the clamor of Gallagher breakfast. He no longer feels the discomfort of the night before. He feels like he fits. Ian seems happy to be home. Mickey is finding comfort as well. He can tell that Ian had been itching to get back to his family. Mickey felt guilty for getting in the way all of a sudden. He distracted Ian away from the rest of the people he loved because of his own stupid bullshit.

When he comes downstairs Ian is entertaining his siblings. Mickey would find this to be a lot cuter if it was not the fucking morning. Then he spots his sister.

She tells him that Svetlana’s water broke. He isn't sure why the fuck she thinks he cares. He does not want to a reminder of that fucking day right now when everything is going so well. Mickey wishes it was first thing in the morning again. Sometimes he can wake up, and there’s a gap of time where he does not remember what his dad did to him.

When he makes it clear that he does not want to go she rolls her eyes.

“Well did you at least take your meds?”

Mickey’s eyes bulge. He can’t believe she just brought that up in front of all the fucking Gallaghers. He did not want them to know. Ian’s family all look confused, except Fiona. She just looks sad.

“Fuck off,” he says flipping her off.

“Asshole, feel free to fuck up your own life, just try not to fuck up your son’s life,” she says. She slams the door when she leaves.

Then Debbie calls Fiona a bitch for “ruining her art project,” like nothing big or significant just happened. Mickey is thankful for the family dispute that distracts them from himself.

Once everyone leaves, he is relieved to just sit and have breakfast with Ian.

“So did you?” Ian asks.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Have you taken your stuff recently?”

“Jesus last time I checked you aren't-, wait nevermind, I don’t think my mom would have even given a shit if I took my drugs. And no I haven’t, they’re back at home.”

“Well then I guess we’re going home then.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure? Because the person who was forced to rape you is giving birth to your son right now.”

“Don’t call it that.”

“What?”

Mickey won’t look Ian in the eyes. “Alright fine, if you’ll stop being a bitch about this, then

we’ll go home.”

Ian just rolls his eyes, and sips his coffee.

“I’m working a double shift tonight, so if you want to stop by...”

“Alright, but if I see anyone trying any shit with you, they’re gonna fucking bleed.”

“Yeah okay thanks Mr. Bodyguard.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

 

Mickey walks Ian to the L before heading back to his home.

 _I’m home_ , he texts Ian. He had been fussy about that lately.

 _thanks babe_.

_“babe.” really?_

_You taken your shit yet?_

He hasn’t. Mickey sighs, and goes to the bathroom. He averts his reflection, ignores the broken mirror, and opens the cabinet. The pill bottles stare at him, slightly above his eye level. He dry swallows them. He can feel them getting stuck in his throat.

The phone is buzzing again. He smirks, thinking it is Ian. It is not.

 _it’s a boy_.

“Fuck” is the only word that is working its way into Mickey’s head. He does not want to deal with this shit and old habits die hard. He goes to the kitchen, deciding to get drunk.

After only his second beer, he decides to chain smoke instead. He does not want Ian to know what he was trying to do to escape his impending fatherhood. Ian has dealt with enough of his bullshit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo so now that the season's over, and I have the week off, there should be more updates. Also, this was the light chapter, so be prepared... Oh yeah, and I'm gonna do the whole canon rewrite up until the end of season five, so this work still has a long way to go


	12. Feels Like Everything is Starting to hit Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Modern Guilt," by Beck.

It was a bad day. Everything had been going too well. Things seemed too good. Mickey knew it would not last too long. He saw right through it. He was right. He doesn’t let anyone know that he’s hurting, not even Ian.

He hates going to his own house because his wife and son are there. He doesn’t want them. He’s not even able to drink legally yet. He’s still a teenager for a few more months. Ian is still a minor.

Mickey dwells on the fact that Ian isn’t quite eighteen yet, but he still is fucking out there practically selling his body every night. Nausea hits him full force. Mickey can’t tell if it’s a side effect or not. The worst part is that he lets him do it.

Weakness strikes him. Mickey can’t take it anymore. He can’t just keep pretending that everything is fine. That he’s okay with his dad coming to his son’s baptism. That he is fine that he even has a son in need of baptism. That he’s fine with his wife controlling him, threatening to tell his father about everything.

Mickey feels like there is something stuck in his throat, and it’s not from cum or pills. He tries to wash it away with whiskey. When that fails, he sets about tearing apart the house. He tries to find the bag full of razors. He does not know where they are, and it’s bothering the shit out of  him. He doesn’t have time to find it. He is thankful to be home alone for once, but he has to get out. The silence is deafening. He just grabs some scissors and Jack Daniel’s and heads to the abandoned building where Ian found him last time he got this bad.

It’s cold as fuck outside. It’s cold as fuck inside the building as well. He ends up staring at that same old corner. Remnants of his blood still remain. He gives a hollow laugh. He managed to end up back here after everything that happened. He hadn’t gotten better at all. Those goddamn pills weren’t enough. It seemed like nothing was ever enough. It felt like he was never enough.

He takes off his coat and sits down. The scissors are more difficult than his usual razor blades. They don’t do as much damage as he wants. He just squints his eyes shut and grabs the bottle. He ripped his old scars open and it feels like it was inevitable. He breathes. He drinks. He bleeds. His phone buzzes, that picture of Ian that he was too familiar with pops up. He does not answer.

The phone keeps buzzing and buzzing, so Mickey turns it off, turns everything off. He finishes the bottle then throws it across the room. A dad, he is a dad, something he never wanted to be. His own father had been the reason that he was so fucked up. He doesn't want to fuck his son up, but he doesn't even want to admit he had one.

* * *

 

Ian is irritated. Mickey won't answer his phone. He doesn't know where Mickey is. 

He thought that things were going well. A few nights ago they were at the club, practically making out in the middle of the dance floor. He felt invincible, and he thought that Mickey felt that way, too.

They had even stayed overnight at one of his client's houses after a party. Mickey was out as his boyfriend at a fucking party.  

He gets that Mickey must be going through some shit right now. The product of his rape is around him all the time. Ian was there. He knows how much all of it affected Mickey. Yevgeny is cute, though. Ian kind of likes him. He is Mickey's son, so how can he not?

Ian is worried. His calls are now just going to voicemail.  He puts on his coat and heads out to find him. He checks The Alibi first.

"Hey has, uh, Mickey been in here today?"

"Nawh, actually. It's kind of weird, he usually checks up on the old upstairs business everyday, but I haven't seen him."

"Shit," Ian says looking up and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Alright thanks, Kev, later."

"Bye."

Ian knows that is not a good sign. Mickey  is pretty committed to his job. He doesn't just blow it off for no reason. Ian considers blowing off work, but decides against it. He still has to make a living, and maybe Mickey just wants some space or something.

He is distracted all night. He tells his boss that he isn’t feeling too well. His boss notices how distracted and worried Ian looks, so he lets him go early.

Ian doesn't know where to look next. The only place he can think of is the place where he never wants to go again.

It’s a bit of a distance from the club. He has to take the L to get near it. Once he gets off, the walk is short, but it seems like forever. Ian tries calling Mickey again, but no dice.

"FUCK," he shouts, kicking a trash can as he almost reaches the building. He wants to find Mickey already, but he doesn't want to find him here. Anywhere but here, and he wouldn't be so scared.

He is sick to his stomach when he finds Mickey. He is in that same corner. Mickey is upright and conscious this time. Ian runs over to him.

"Jesus, Mick. Fuck," he says kneeling down and inspecting his forearms in the dim light that is cast in from the streetlights. Mickey won't even look at him. He is ashamed to have Ian find him like this.

"I'm sorry," Mickey mumbles out. Ian can tell that he has been crying.

"You can't keep doing this Mickey. When you're feeling shitty you can’t just run away and try to drown it out. I know first hand that doesn't work." Ian moves over to sit down next to his boyfriend. He puts his head on Ian's lap. Ian plays with Mickey's hair, trying to calm him down.

"I don't want this." Mickey finally says. His words are slightly slurred. "I don't want a fucking wife. I don't want a fucking son. I don't want to be a pimp or a fucking wreck or any of this."

"I know, Mickey, I know alright. You're not a wreck, you're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me, okay?" Ian lets his words sit out. He sighs. "Come on, Mick. Let's go home. Let's get out of this fucking shithole."

“I can’t,” he says. He will never get out of this. It’s not something he can run away from. When he was a kid, his father kicked him in the head for crying, saying only fags cry. He had a lump on his forehead for a while after that. He never made the mistake of crying around anyone until Ian came along. It felt like he had lost control of himself.

Ian helps him up. The only sounds he hears are Mickey’s ragged breaths. He puts his arms around Mickey, who then nuzzles into his shoulder. They stand there, Mickey crying into Ian. Ian reaches up and strokes Mickey’s hair. “We should go home now, okay?”

Mickey sniffs, pulls away, then nods. Ian grabs his hand. It’s somewhere around three am. The few people that are around as they walk home are too drunk or high to care about the two of them holding hands as they walk to the Milkovich home.

The house is quiet and it’s odd. The Milkovich household is known for a lot of things, being this still is not one of them. Mickey is confused when Ian leads him to the bathroom instead of his bedroom. They take a shower together. Ian washes the blood off of Mickey’s forearms. After they get out and put on some clothes, Ian wraps Mickey’s arms up with gauze.

Ian leans down and places a kiss on Mickey’s right arm, then the left. “All better,” Ian says, giving a small sad smile at the floor. “Come on, I think it’s time for us to go to bed.”

“Always trying to get me into bed,” Mickey mumbles. Ian doesn’t hear him though.

Ian crawls in first, then Mickey. They face towards each other, legs entangled. Ian reaches up and strokes Mickey's hair. Mickey closes his eyes, his fatigue finally settling in at maximum.

"You're so beautiful," Ian whispers.

Mickey doesn't say anything. He has the urge to tease Ian about how gay he sounds, but then again no one has ever called Mickey beautiful before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been in my mind for a while, so it's nice to get it down.
> 
> EDIT: hey so this fic is probably going to be on a mini hiatus until at least May 5th sorry


	13. Just to get on level ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this took forever and sorry the chapter is kind of short, I've been busy af lately, but I'm going to try to get updates more frequently so yeah, sorry. Chapter title taken from "Youthless," by Beck.

Ian has Mickey stay over at the Gallagher household the night before Yevgeny's baptism. It's been a few nights since Mickey broke down. Ian and Mickey had a quiet day the next day. Ian called in sick again so that he could stay with Mickey. They didn't really do a whole lot, but Mickey was grateful that Ian had been there just to comfort him.

Mickey was almost back to his normal self the next day, but there wasn't much time for recovery. His piece of shit dad is coming to his son’s baptism. Mickey keeps finding his hands shaking. The morning of the baptism is actually pretty okay. Mickey feels like himself.

He wakes up to hearing Carl asking Ian if he is Ian’s boyfriend.

“We hang out,” Ian says. Mickey smirks. _That’s not the only thing we do_ , he thinks to himself. He lets the conversation go out of his radar and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t want to face today.

“You love Mickey?” Carl says. Mickey tunes back in. He doesn’t breathe until Ian answers.

“I like the way he smells.”

Mickey makes a face because he is confused as fuck, and decides to finally interrupt.

“What are you asking stupid questions for, huh?” he says walking into the bathroom.

Ian asks if he is still okay to go to his son’s baptism.

“He’s my fucking son, man,” Mickey replies, back turned to Ian.

“Alright, I’ll go get dressed then.”

“Ian, come on, I’ll be fine by myself. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“What you don’t want me to go,” Ian says pushing Mickey against the wall. Mickey is happy that Ian isn’t treating him like glass. He shoves Ian back against the other wall.

“Probably best if you don’t, tough guy.”

“Well, for you maybe,” Ian says, invading Mickey’s space even more than before.

“Why are you busting my balls, man,” Mickey says walking away from Ian.

Ian won’t let him get that far before pulling him in.

“Just wondering if we were a couple or not.”

Mickey pushes Ian down onto his bed, and hesitates for a moment. Mickey thought the answer was obvious, but Ian looks apprehensive, like he doesn’t know what Mickey is going to say.

“Of course we are.”

“A couple that hides?”

“Come on man, with my family? It’s worked out so far so good.”

“Yeah, well I’m sick of it,” Ian admits. Mickey is too, but he can’t really do anything about it.

“Jesus, christ I’ve got so much stupid shit to deal with right now, we’ll deal with this shit later.” Mickey walks away before anything else can happen. He has to stop at his house to take his meds and get his fancy ass clothes, but wears combat boots as a ‘fuck you.’

He feels bad that he can’t be more for Ian. Mickey knows that Ian was not trying to make him feel bad, but the conversation just reminded him that he wasn’t enough for Ian. He tries to shake the feeling off. He’s the only one in the Milkovich house at the moment, and it’s strange. His brothers are out setting up. He has no idea where Mandy is. He's worried about her.

He checks the clock on the stove.

“Shit,” he says to himself under his breath. He’s going to be really fucking late if he doesn’t leave now. He throws on a coat and hat and hustles to the L stop. He waits in the little heated cove for his train to show up. Maybe then he would stop shaking. The cold is not causing his tremors. His arm that holds onto the pole is shaking still, but he blames it on the train.

He gets off and immediately starts smoking. Once he gets to the church he tries to gain his composure, but the “Welcome Home Terry” sign that his brothers are putting is not helping. He tries to act normal as he walks in. Other than Iggy and Mandy, none of the Milkovich’s know about Mickey. He want to keep it that way. The less people involved in his shit, the better.

He argues with Svetlana. He hears the door to the church open and his breath hitches. He breathes out once he realizes it’s just Ian. Then fear flickers through him. If Terry shows up and sees Ian there, he does not know what will happen to him.

He can not watch his son nor his wife, so he just looks at the ground. Every so often he glances at Ian for reassurance. Ian is always there to meet his gaze. He finally brings himself to look. Svetlana is glaring at him, so he redirects his attention to Yevgeny. He feels guilty for not caring about him. He’s just a baby, he does not even know anything. It’s not his fault that he was the result of the worst day of his life.

Once it’s over and done with, Mickey quietly walks over to Ian.

“Thanks for coming,” he says avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, well that’s what couples do,” Ian says with a hint of a smile.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says giving a small laugh.

“You look really good right now,” Ian says.

“Gallagher are you really trying to get in my pants in a church.”

“Maybe...”

“Jesus fuck,” Mickey says finding his coat and hat. They walk out and share a smoke.

“You ready for the shit show of an after party?” Ian asks.

“Yeah about that...”

“What?” Ian asks, not handing the cig back.

“I mean my dad is going to be there so...”

“So what?” Ian asks growing irritated. He forcefully hands the cig back and Mickey takes a drag.

“So maybe you shouldn’t be there, you know. Can’t say my dad would be too fucking happy to see the boy that put his dick in his son’s ass again.”

“He didn’t do anything to me at the wedding. Just fucking tell me if you don’t want me there.”

“Look I do, but... I just don’t’ want you to get hurt.”

“And I don't want you facing your dad without me being there. I’m fucking coming, okay.”

“Okay.” Mickey says. The cigarette is almost gone. “Thanks for helping me deal with all this shit.”

Ian doesn’t reply, he doesn’t know how.  


	14. Leave you here wearing your wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Lost Cause," by Beck.

They walk into the Alibi together. Kev is still kissing his ass ever since he threatened Mickey with a gun. He's okay with it because that means a cold beer is in his hands moments after walking in. That is, until he fucking makes his plate and starts talking about some peace and love bullshit. Then he gets annoyed as fuck.

Not a lot of people seem to notice that Mickey is there, even though it is his son's baptism. He's okay with it. He doesn't like attention unless it's from a certain redhead.

“Tell your boyfriend to leave,” Svetlana interrupts.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Howdy Doody,” she says glancing back at Ian, who is anxiously demolishing some peanuts. “Tell him to leave or I will.” Svetlana seems to think she has control over Mickey.

“Alright, fine,” he says rolling his eyes. He doesn’t to deal with any more shit today. He just wants to go home and get drunk with Ian.

“Look Svetlana wants you to go.”

Ian looks amused and hurt at the same time. “You want me to go?”

“No, I don’t want you to go, but the whole thing is going to go a lot easier if you do.”

“For you maybe, but what about me?”

Mickey doesn’t want to answer that question. He knows that he needs to give Ian more if he wants him to stay this time. “Is this really the way you want to be spending your day off?”

“You’re here.” Mickey knows that he means it, and he feels guilty. Why would Ian be wasting his time on scum of the neighborhood?”

“Give me a couple hours, and I’ll meet you back at your place.”

“No, I’m fucking staying here.”

“Why?”

“I’m sick of living a lie, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying to you,” Mickey says, and he doesn’t anymore. He has been trying his best for Ian because he needs him to stay.

“Everyone else?”

“I don’t give a shit about them, it doesn’t make a fucking difference if I lie to them.”

“Because-,” Ian brings himself to Mickey’s eye level, “Because you’re not free,” he pleads.

Mickey lowers his voice, “Ian what you and I have makes me free, not what these assholes know.”

Ian searches Mickey’s face for moment, and opens his mouth to say something. Mickey has put his hand on his arms.

“Look what the state of Illinois just released back into society!” some trashy friend or uncle or whatever of Terry yells. Mickey visibly flinches and mutters “shit,” before walking away.

“Daddy’s home.”

Mickey is shaking again, but he grabs Yev from Svetlana anyways.

“Look at scared little boy running to daddy,” Svetlana chasitises.

“Eat me,” he says turning around and trying to pry that old mask back down onto his face. He hears Terry asking about Yev, so he goes over to him. He feels like his body is not his. He slips back into the familiar numbness of his survival instincts. Mickey fakes some smiles and pretends to be happy that the hands that had caused him so much damage are holding his tiny little son whom he cannot protect.

He makes eye contact with Ian and falters. Ian looks like he is on the verge of crying. Mickey has to tear his eyes away. He takes a shot.

Mickey spends a lot of his time sitting alone in a booth trying to avoid everything. Time is passing by too slowly and he needs to not think so much. Svetlana continues to periodically check up on him to remind him that he has no power. He gets fucking sick of it. He snaps at her. Ian comes up and lightly grabs at his elbow. Mickey jumps. “I’m leaving.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at yours.”

“No you won’t.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you seem to have stopped giving a shit about me now that you’re stable.”

“Are you shitting me, that’s only been for like a few fucking days.”

“Yeah well the only time you ever really want me is when you’re hurting.”

“Ian you know that’s not true.”

“Mickey you can’t just fucking come to me when you’re broken.”

That hurts. Ian has always been the only one who ever treated Mickey like he is whole. He always knows what Mickey needs and he always does everything he can to give it to him, even if it involves draining himself.

“I’m not fucking broken alright,” he mumbles.

“Yeah I know, but you will if you keep letting your fucking dad control every piece of your life. I’m sick of your fucking self sabotage. I’m going home so don’t fucking bother.” Ian heads for the door.

Mickey doesn’t know what to do. He has to keep Ian from leaving. He does the only thing that he can think to do.

“Hey! Hey everyone. I’d like to make an announcement.” The bar quiets down and Ian stops in the doorway. “I just want everybody here to know I’m fucking gay... a big ol’ ‘mo. I just thought everybody should know that.” He takes a breath and looks over to Ian again. “You happy now?”

Ian is stunned. The paused moment lasts for a few moments before the party resumes. For a few moments, things seem to be back to normal. No one seems to give a shit.

Tery stands up and flips a table, fury and obscenities leaks from his pores. Suddenly it’s like Mickey is six again and he knocked over his father’s beer. Terry comes at him full force and his brain switches to fight or flight. He’s seldom one for flight. He’s managed to get himself in he middle of a bar fight.

He feels alive. His wife, his dad, everyone knows. He has nothing to hide from anymore. Then Ian is there, beating the shit out of everyone near Mickey. The fight seems to last forever and when the cops finally show up. Mickey still hasn’t lost his fight. The cops have to restrain him.

Blood is dripping into his eyes when the cops press him up against their car.

“Fucking faggot! Get out of my house, you pole-smoking queer!”

Mickey feels all the anger and resentment flowing out of him. He gets what Ian said about not being free. “Fuck you! Don’t worry about it! I’ve been staying at Ian’s since you’ve been in the can, bitch! Guess what we’ve been doing daddy? We’ve been fucking,” he says starting to hump the cop car. “And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard, and I fucking like it.”

“Let me go,” Terry yells.

“Fuck you!”

“I suck his dick, I fucking love it.”

“Fuck you! I’m gonna cut your balls in little pieces and shove them up our ass so far, you grow ball trees you fuck.”

The cop releases Mickey, and spews some shit about his husband. Mickey is in too much of a daze to really notice. He watches as the cops drag his dad away and catches Ian flipping him off as he goes. Mickey is coming down from his endorphin high. Ian walks over to him, and they both don’t really know what to do.

Ian just grabs a pack of smokes and lights one up. They pass it back and forth for a bit without really talking about anything.

“It’s fucking cold as shit out here.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go grab our coats,” Ian says. Mickey is thankful that he doesn’t to go back into the bar after the shit that just went down. He just stands by the door and tries to ignore the stares that the people around him give. Ian has been in there for longer than it takes to get some fucking jackets. A flash of fear jolts Mickey. He’s afraid that Ian left again, even after everything that happened.

He hears the door open, and resists the urge to see if it’s Ian. He doesn’t have to because suddenly familiar arms are wrapping his jacket around his shoulders. He lets himself exhale with his eyes closed for a moment. He looks up and Ian is leaning against a car.

He walks over and joins him. Ian pulls a flask out of his coat and raises his eyebrows. Mickey takes it and tries not the chug the entire thing. Some asshole friends of Terry walk over and try to make fun of him, but he doesn’t respond. Ian stares. He expects Mickey to go beat the shit out of them too, but Mickey looks completely drained.

“Think I broke half a fucking tooth.”

“Yeah my ribs don’t feel too good,” they continue passing the flask. “So you really came out...”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna wear a fucking dress or anything.”

“Nobody fucking asked you to. Although you do have really nice legs.”

Mickey huffs into a smile through all the blood. “You’re a fucking dick.” Ian starts laughing and clutching at his ribs. “Yeah, that’s what you fucking get.”

Ian looks up and he’s got that fucking look in his eyes that go straight the the middle of Mickey’s chest. Mickey allows himself to feel again, lets himself get hit with the weight of everything. Ian notices immediately and drapes his arm around Mickey. His hand shifts up to the back of Mickey’s neck and pulls him in to kiss his hair.

Ian grabs his hand. “Come on, let’s go back to my place.”

There are a million remarks that Mickey could say to that. None of them slip out of his mouth. “Okay,” he whispers.

 

 


	15. But I crumble Completely When You Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can not tell the difference between the water of the shower and the saltwater of Mickey’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys

They walk into the Gallagher home hoping for silence, but no dice.

“What the fuck happened to you guys?” Lip asks. He is in the kitchen with Amanda.

“Long story,” is all Ian says. He drags Mickey upstairs. Mickey finds himself being dragged into the bathroom instead of Ian’s bedroom. Ian preemptively turns on the shower to make sure the water is warm when they get in.

He slowly begins to undress Mickey, careful with all of his little touches. Ian does not think that he has ever seen Mickey’s body without a bruise or a cut before. Ian tries his best to know every mark on Mickey's body. His body’s condition  is almost as bad as it was when Mickey’s dad first caught them. Although after that occurred, Ian did not get to see Mickey’s body for far too long, and by then the worst of the injuries had at least faded. The hurt had not.

Now Ian could see every single one blossoming on his lover’s skin. He wants to kiss them all until they disappear. Mickey starts to remove Ian’s clothing as well. His hands are trembling.

They get in the shower at leisure, and Ian lets Mickey stand under the spray first. Mickey turns to face it, and finally lets his tears mix with water. Ian notices the slight tremors of Mickey's back and turns him around so he can kiss his tears away. He can not tell the difference between the water of the shower and the saltwater of Mickey’s eyes.

“Hey, shhh, everything is going to be okay,” Ian says. Mickey nods, avoiding looking into Ian’s eyes. They manage to both get under the water. Blood, dirt, and tears flow down the drain. Mickey pulls himself together little by little. By the time they gets out of the shower, he feels a bit better.

“Nice curls,” Mickey teases.

“Shut up,” Ian says smirking, and lightly whipping Mickey with his towel. They laugh, but then Ian cringes. “Jesus Mick, you have to stop making me laugh, it hurts like a bitch,” he says clutching his ribs.

Mickey gets up on his tiptoes and whispers in a low voice, “I’d rather make you moan.”

Ian’s eyebrows shoot up. “I think if we tried to fuck right now, we’d end up in the ER.”

“Fair enough,” Mickey says, walking to Ian’s room. He has a few pieces of clothes that he keeps in Ian’s drawers that he throws on, but he has to wear a pair of Ian’s boxers. He plops down on Ian’s bed, and watches him get dressed.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t do other things,” Ian says before straddling Mickey’s lap, running his fingers through black hair.

“Yes it does,” Lip interrupts.

Ian throws his head back and groans, but not for the reasons that Mickey wants.

Lip is in the doorway with his girlfriend.

“Sorry boys, we already called dibs,” she says.

“On the entire fucking house?” Ian asks. “Lip, you have your own fucking room and a dorm.”

“And you guys have the House of Horrors, can’t you guys fuck there?”

Ian rolls his eyes and looks back to Mickey. “Do you think anyone will be home?”

“Probably not, other than Mandy and Kenyatta.”

“Exactly, so what the fuck happened?" Lip asks.

"It's a long story," Ian repeats.

"Yeah, I know. I got all night."

"I thought you wanted us to piss off," Ian reminds.

"Fine then. See you later, man," Lips says.

Ian reluctantly climbs off of Mickey. He helps the boy below him up, even though it sends pain wracking through his body.

They throw on their winter garb, and share a cigarette as they walk the few blocks to Mickey’s house. They take it slow, walking in a comfortable silence. The water in their hair is freezing.

Once they make it to the porch, Ian kisses Mickey deeply against the door to the Milkovich house. Ian pulls away first, grabbing the other boy’s hand as he opens the door to the house.

He lets out a sigh of relief to see that the house is dark. If there is anyone home, they would not notice their presence. He carefully pulls Mickey in, then closes the door behind them.

He drags the other boy into his room, and starts kissing him again. He moves forward as he continues moving his mouth against Mickey’s. His hands are roaming over Mickey with softer touch than normal. The back of Mickey’s legs hit his bed, and he lets his knees buckle so that Ian can resume his earlier position on his lap.

They make out with Ian on Mickey’s lap until they can’t breathe. Ian hears Mickey’s jaw pop, and he grimaces.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Ian suggests, keeping his voice soft.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today,” Mickey says. He pushes Ian’s coat off, as well as his shirt. Ian stands up and takes of his pants, then he helps the other boy get undressed.

They crawl into Mickey’s bed together. Mickey faces Ian. He runs his fingers through Ian’s cold, damp curls. He allows himself to smile a little. Ian closes his eyes.

“Ian?” Mickey whispers.

“Hm?” he says slowly opening his eyes.

Mickey still toys with Ian’s hair for a moment more before whispering, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Ian forgets to breathe for a second. He can’t do anything, but stare at Mickey. He finally hears the words spill out of the mouth of the boy he loves. Ian has loved Mickey for so long.  He reaches out and slides his fingertips along the edge of Mickey's black eye. His other finger tips ghost over the scars his arms. Mickey closes his swelling eyes and starts shaking again.

“I love you, too,” Ian whispers back. Mickey lets out a shuddered breath. He doesn’t open his eyes, he just moves closer to Ian. Ian closes his eyes as well. They both fall asleep, broken bodies together.  

  
  



	16. Some Days We Get a Thrill in Our Veins, Some Days it Turns into Malaise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Walls," by Beck.

The glare from the sun reflecting off the snow is flooding Mickey’s room. He is not sure what time it is. The only thing he can really focus on is the boy draped over him. He does not bother to open his eyes.

Almost every part of his body is in some sort of pain in varying levels. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is that he is in Ian’s arms. Ian finally knows that he loves him.

Mickey can not remember the last time anyone told him that he or she loved him before last night. He has vague memories of his mother saying it to him when he was very young. He is not sure if those are just dreams or real memories.

His siblings never said it to him, and his father sure as hell never said it to anyone. Even when he was in the hospital, Mandy never said it. She thought it was implied. For Mickey, it never was. He went through his life assuming that no one loved him, and that no one would ever love him.

That’s what made it so difficult to get up and start to pick up the pieces again. If he had his way, he would just lie there forever. He sighs, then moves to get up without waking Ian up. He turns around and runs his fingers through Ian’s hair. He lingers for a moment.

He goes to grab a cig, but the pack is empty. He sighs because he does not want to leave the room. He puts on a pair of pants and a shirt before walking out into the living space.

“So you are rainbow boy now?” he hears Svetlana ask. Her her is a shitty off brand red.

“The fuck you do to your hair?” he replies.

“What, you wear pink sweaters and stink of man perfume now?”

“I look shitty in pink,” he mumbles. He struggles with the lighter for a few moments before looking up.

“What the fuck?” he asks. Svetlana is wearing nothing but a robe and a strap on.

“You like penis, yes?”

“Not when there’s tits above it-”

“You want it in your poo place-”

“No, I want to to put it a-fucking-way.”

She stares at him; she removes the strap on and closes her robe.

“Thank you.” It is too early for Mickey to be dealing with this level of shit. Just when he thinks their wonderful conversation is over, Svetlana goes and makes things heavy.

“You love him?” she asks. Mickey can not read what her intentions are. He does not know if he should lie or not. He feels wrong confessing something so personal.

“Maybe...”

Svetlana can see the pure worry and panic in her husband’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says trying to be nonchalant.

“Because he has a real penis?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He sits down hoping that she will finally leave him the fuck alone.

“I hate the penis,” she says, a hint of playfulness sneaking its way across her face, “ugly fucking skin stick. Always trying to get in where it doesn’t belong. You like boys, maybe I like girls. No penis is staring at you, hoping to explode like sticky volcano. America, is land of choices, yes,” she hands Mickey a mug of coffee. “Freedom to be me, freedom to be you. McDonald’s, Burger King on same block. You choose one, both, shit maybe we go to Wendy’s instead.”

“You’re a lesbian?” Mickey asks. He is confused because she spends all day around dicks.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Choice,” she finishes her little speech.

He gets distracted because Mandy walks in wearing bruises almost as bad as his.

“Morning,” she yawns. Mickey hates seeing her brush off what boys do to her. When he looks over at Svetlana, he realizes that she has been checking his sister out. She smirks at his face.

“Nika from Tug shop wants to take care of me.”

“What, the blonde on with the lazy eye.”

“She plays trumpet, strong tongue. But baby no choose, baby is me and baby is you. He has no vote, no America. We must take care of him, not just me. Otherwise, I wait until you sleep, and I stab you and orange boy in the heart with screwdrivers, and I watch you bleed, until you die. No more bullshit about baby,” she says placing Yevgeny in Mickey’s arms. “You help...and Nika come here to live.”

She walks away. Mickey feels fucking useless. He does not want to sit there with this reminder of what happened to him. He looks down and studies his son. Yev is cute, he’ll give him that. He does not know if he will ever love him. Guilt starts to overtake him because if he can not learn to love his son, then he will become even more like Terry.

He holds Yevgeny until he finishes his coffee. He knows that he should go check up on the business, but he can’t bring himself to leave the house quite yet. He does not anyone to think that he is hiding away, though. He can’t stand holding him anymore, so he places Yevgeny back in his crib.

He knocks on Mandy’s bedroom door. She opens it a crack.

“Hey, can you watch Yev?”

“I guess, why?”

“I was, uh, I was just going to take Ian out to lunch or something.”

Mandy gives him a small smile, “Yeah okay, I guess I can handle him for a little bit.”

“Thanks,” Mickey mutters. He heads to the bathroom.

Vodka is what he uses to brush his teeth. He goes to check to see if Ian is awake yet. Usually Ian wakes up well before him, but Mickey figures the reason that he is still in bed is because of the rough night. Ian is facing away from him as he walks in.

“Hey man, it’s noon, rise and fucking shine Cinderella,” he opens the blinds to let more stark winter light in. “I’m heading to Tommy’s to get a ‘dog. Mandy said she’d watch the baby for a while.”

Ian is awake now, but he pulls the covers over his head and turns away from the window.

“Yo, sleepy face, get your ass up man, it’s time to roll.” Ian says something, but the sheets muffle out his words. Mickey crawls closer to Ian, “What was that mumbles? Come on, get up. I’m buying.” Ian still doesn’t respond.

Mickey reaches up to pull the sheet away from Ian’s face. “Hey, hey you okay? You feeling sick or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Ian quietly croaks out. He covers his face again.

“Alright, you want me to bring you back something to eat?” Ian does not respond.

“Alright man, go fuck yourself sleep all day, see if I care.” Mickey is frustrated. They can finally be together out in public, and now suddenly Ian does not want to be around him.

Mandy is in the doorway.

“Is he okay?” she asks.

“Who the fuck knows?” Mickey tries not to let his worry seep into his voice.

Mandy lingers in the door for a moment. A strange wave of déja-vu hits her. The last time she saw this scene the figure in the bed had black hair instead of red.

“I’m heading out,” Mickey calls out. Mandy hears the door slam shut a minute later.

 

 


	17. And it seems as though I'm on my own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "Charon," by Keaton Henson.

Mickey does not go to Tommy’s; he goes to the Alibi. Mickey is dreading walking in. He doesn’t know how people are going to react. He gets ready to beat the shit out of anyone who touches him. He opens the door.

“Hey,” he says to no one in particular.

“Hey” Tommy replies. He ignores him.

“How’s it going Mickey,” Kev asks.

“Yo, how’s business upstairs going?” he asks Kev.

“Slow, you know. It’s cold out...”

Mickey feels an uncomfortable vibe coming from the bar.

“How’s business downstairs, Mick?” Tommy asks.

“That a fucking gay joke?” Mickey asks, tendrils of anger beginning to shoot through him.

“I don’t know, is it funny?”

“No, it wasn’t funny.”

“Then no, it wasn’t a gay joke.”

Mickey snaps. He stands up and says to the whole bar, “Hey if anyone has got something to say fucking say it.” He looks around, waiting for someone to speak up, waiting to pounce.

“Were you surprised?” he hears Kev ask. He turns around. “Cause I wasn’t. I mean Rock Hudson, that was a bit of a shock, Ellen, that kid ‘Doogie Howser, M.D.’”

“Ellen, really? I had that one,” Vee says.

“Rosie O’Donnell, that one got me. She looks just like my sister,” Tommy remarks.

“I thought your sister was gay,” Vee says to the patron.

“She wasn’t, before Ellen.”

Mickey is thankful for Kev for easing the tension and distracting everyone.

“Elton John, ‘Candle in the Wind,’” Kermit says.

“That diver from the underwear ads.”

“Marky Mark,” Kermit adds.

“Marky Mark’s not gay,” says Vee.

“He did underwear ads.”

“Greg Louganis, he busted his head on the Olympic diving board. Blood everywhere, kept going, tough fucker.”

“That NBA player last year.”

“Yeah, Jason Collins, that took guts. What about that kid that just came out in college football, Michael Sam,” Kev keeps the list going.

“Fergie.”

“No shit, Fergie?” Kev asks.

“Well maybe just bisexual, but still.”

Mickey is still freaked out. He does not like people talking about all this shit. He feels like this little list is just going to end up with him as the butt of the joke.

“Mickey have a seat, man,” Kev says. “No one gives a shit who you bang. Let me buy you a beer.” He slides a cold one over to Mickey. He finally sits down.

Kevin makes a toast, “To butt buddies, long may they slam and slap.” The whole bar takes a drink.

Mickey still can’t help but look over his shoulder. He feels like someone is going to come after him still, no matter how accepting everyone seems.

Mickey is feeling a bit better by the time he gets home. The shouts coming from his house are so loud that he can hear Mandy and Kenyatta’s argument from down the street. He decides to pick up the mail in order to put off going inside.

As he walks in, he sees them fighting. Mickey is just waiting to swoop in and protect his sister. They do not seem to even notice that he is there. Kenyatta grabs his sister, so he grabs the nearest blunt object.

Mandy seems to be able to handle it though, screaming at him to get out of the house. He complies.

“ASSHOLE,” she screams as he leaves the house, slamming the door on his way out.

Mandy starts frantically trying to clean up the mess that they made during the argument.

“The fucking baby is crying,” Mickey points out, not really sure how to handle the situation.

“Yeah, your baby is crying.”

“How long is he gonna keep it up for?”

“He’ll fall asleep again in a minute.”

Mickey hates seeing his sister like this.

“Fuck, Mandy, jesus, you don’t have to put up with this shit.”

“It’s all right, not like there’s a line of guys waiting outside my door for me, huh.”

Mickey can tell that she wants him to drop it, but he doesn’t want to. He does not want to piss her off anymore, though.

“Did Ian go to work?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? Do you mean he never got up?”

“Not that I saw.”

Mickey is starting to panic. How the hell could Mandy not notice if her best friend got out of bed or not? More importantly, how could he not know either? He doesn’t know why the fuck Ian was acting so weird in the morning.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“Yo, it’s after five, are you trying to set a new record or something?” his words come out harsh to hide his worry. “You are not still sleeping, get up.”

Mickey’s stomach drops. He wonders if this is what Mandy felt like watching him after Ian left for the army.

“Ian are you high, did you take something? Do you want me to call the club or-”

“Jesus, leave me alone,” Ian shouts. His voice sounds empty.

Mickey’s chest falls. Ian did not want him around. Even after he fucking came out in front of his dad, who could have easily killed the both of them, he still was not enough. To him, it looked like he was never going to be good enough for anyone. The only person that ever told Mickey that he love him does not want him.

He walks away, trying to keep the tears in his eyes from falling.

“The fuck is wrong with him?” he asks Mandy. She just walks away. Of course, how ridiculous to think that his sister cared, that anyone cared. He closes the door to his room.

He is not sure what to do. He remembers Ian telling him that his mom would spend weeks doing all this crazy shit, acting high as a fucking kite. Then she would spend the next weeks laying around doing nothing.

He decides that maybe Fiona or Lip will know what to do. Maybe Ian has been like this before. They have to know what to do. Mickey does not know what he will do if they don’t know.

He walks over to the Gallagher house in the snow. He goes to the front door instead of the back, which he almost never does. He knocks. The lights are on, so someone has got to answer. Carl opens the door.

“Hey is, uh, is your brother home?”

“I thought he was staying with you.”

“Nawh, come on man, your other one, Lip.”

“College.”

The panic returns to Mickey’s body. Ian needs help; he needs help now.

“What, is something wrong?” Carl asks.

“Just, uh, if him or Fiona comes by just tell them to stop over at my place okay,” he says turning around to go.

“What’s wrong with Ian?” Carl asks.

Mickey hesitates. “Uh, he hasn’t gotten out of bed all day.”

Carl’s face drops. He turns around and calls Debbie, telling her to get out there.

Mickey tells her what he told Carl. She reacts almost the exact same way as her brother.

“I can come check on him, see if I can figure out what’s wrong,” Debbie offers.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Carl, you stay here and watch the kids,” Debbie instructs her little brother while she gets ready for the walk over.

“Fuck off,” Carl replies. She is reminding him of Fiona. He grabs Liam and closes the door behind them as they leave.

They do not try to make conversation, and for that Mickey is grateful.  When they reach the house, he holds onto the doorknob, hoping that when he walks in, Ian will be up. He is not.  He leads Ian’s siblings to their room.

“Ian?” Debbie tries. “Ian are you alright? Ian it’s Debbie. Ian?”

Svetlana is holding Liam. She is looking at Mickey, but he can’t read what her gaze means.

“You know what this is?” he quietly asks Debbie.

She turns to face him.

“Yeah, we know what this is. It’s bipolar disorder, like Monica.”

Mickey runs a hand over his face. He is supposed to be the fucked up one, not Ian. He is one with self-inflicted scars on his arms, not Ian. He is the one with a failed suicide attempt, not Ian. Ian can’t be like him.

“What do I do?” he asks, hoping she has an answer for that too.

“There is nothing you can do.”

Mickey doesn’t know what to say to that. He just shakes his head.

“It’s late, don’t you guys have school tomorrow?” he asks Debbie and Carl.

“Well yeah, but-”

“Then go home and get some sleep, alright? I’ll deal with this, okay?”

“You sure?”

Mickey shrugs.

“Okay well, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Debbie asks.

“Yeah.”

Debbie nods. She takes Liam from Svetlana. They don’t slam the door as they leave.

Svetlana gives him a look of pity, retreats to her room.

Mickey goes into his room, although it isn’t really his. It hasn’t been just his room since Ian came back. He tosses his coat in the corner. He grabs the comforter that is at the foot of the bed and pulls it up. He slowly climbs in next to Ian. He keeps his distance.

Mickey spends the night falling in and out of sleep. Almost everytime he wakes up, he finds himself wrapped around Ian. Usually it is the other way around, but he just wants Ian to be close.

Mickey stays in bed with him until he gets a text from Debbie saying that Fiona is back and that they will be over in about a half of an hour. He gets out of bed carefully so that he does not disturb Ian.

The house is so cold. Once he is dressed, he just sits on his bed, facing away from Ian.

“Orange boy’s family is here,” Svetlana calls from another room.

He gets up, and goes to meet them. Fiona pretty much just brushes past him to get to Ian. She tries talking to him while her siblings, Mickey, and Mandy watch. She does not get any responses from him.

“How long has he been like this?” she asks.

“Since yesterday morning,” Mickey answers. He thinks that she seems to fucking calm about this.

“He’s just sleeping and I can’t get him up, I tried.”

“And what about before, what was he like?”

“He was fine. He was happy, staying up all hours of the night. We were good.”

“We’ve got a get a hold of Lip he should know,” she says off to the side to Debbie. Mickey doesn’t like that she thinks that Lip knows better than he does.

“Know what, what’s wrong with him?”

“Uh, depression I think,” she says, acting like Mickey Milkovich does not know what depression is. “Or it could be bipolar disease, like our mom.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s like high highs followed by low lows, over and over again” she explains.

Mickey knows already. He read up on it because of how much Ian would talk about Monica. He knows that it is called bipolar disorder, not bipolar disease, so he worries about how much Fiona really knows what she is dealing with.

“We can get him an appointment with a psychiatrist,” she says.

Mickey does not want Ian to have to go through what he went through. He just started acting this way. He feels like they are jumping the gun. Ian could snap out of it at any moment. It could just be withdrawal from whatever club drugs he was on. It could just be him reacting badly to the bar fight.

“I mean, we all get depressed,” he starts.

“He needs to be hospitalized,” she says.

“What like a fucking psych ward?”

Mickey couldn’t afford the psych ward when he was hospitalized. He does not know if that is the best place for Ian. He does not want to let him go like that.

“I can take care of him, let me take care of him. He’s fucking family.”

“Mickey,” she says condescendingly, “he is going to be impossible to deal with-”

“Don’t tell me what’s impossible.”

“Mickey, you don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”

“Yeah, actually, I do. He can get help without staying in a shitty hospital.”

“How? How the fuck would you know? My mother had this shit and the only time she would act okay was when-”

“When she was locked away so you didn’t have to deal with her?”

“Mickey you don’t understand.”

He pulls up his sleeve and shows Fiona. “I-I don’t. I don’t, do I? You are telling me I don’t know shit about mental shit.”

Fiona’s eyes widen. She seems less angry now. “Fine, take him to a doctor then. If he’s not better by next week, he’s going to the hospital.”

Mickey gulps, “Okay.”

“Alright. We’ll be back tomorrow. Get him to a doctor.”

Mickey nods. They are starting to leave, but Debbie stays behind for a moment.

“Thanks for looking after him, Mickey,” she says, before joining her family.

 

Mandy and Mickey have dinner together. They don't talk very much at all. Finally she breaks the silence.

“So are you gonna call a doctor.”

“Yeah I, uh, I found one that looks good after they left. Got an appointment tomorrow at noon. Don’t know if we can afford it though, but we’ll make ends meet.”

“Aight, good,” she pauses. “Mick, are you sure you can handle it?”

“Of course I can fucking handle him. He's family."

"I know that but with what Fiona said-"

"Fiona doesn't know shit about me, and she acts like she doesn't give a shit about Ian. She acts like she knows what's best for him but when was the last time they talked, huh?"

"She's his sister, come on."

"Whatever, I'm going to fucking bed," he says, walking away from his sister.

He goes into his dark room. Ian is still facing away. He strips down into his boxers. He slowly crawls in next to Ian.

"Hey Ian," he whispers. He hates himself because he has tears welling up in his eyes. Ian is still awake, but it's like Mickey isn't even in the room.

"We have an appointment with a fancy ass doctor tomorrow... I'm uh- I'm getting you help, okay?"

He wraps his arms around Ian and buries his face in his shoulder.

"Everything's gonna be okay...you know, because I love you."

The tears start streaming.

"I fucking love you. I know what you're going through and- and everything is going to be okay. It has to be. It has to."


End file.
